


Lessons

by blackbird_flying



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Ficlet, First Kiss, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 23:46:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18227039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackbird_flying/pseuds/blackbird_flying
Summary: “Bucky? Are you going to show me?” Steve couldn’t sound plaintive if he tried, he was a little shit held together with spite and willpower. But he definitely sounded whispery. Maybe he was having an asthma attack? If only Bucky’s head weren’t spinning. Maybe they were both having asthma attacks. The fabric of Steve’s shirt was soft under his hand, and Bucky’s fingers had started moving across it without his permission.





	Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> There is absolutely no historical accuracy attempted here

Steve needed to learn, so Bucky was going to teach him. And yeah, sure, Bucky might have noticed Steve’s lips before. Who could help but notice, when he made that self-righteous face. They pouted like they were asking to get punched. Or licked. Or bitten. Or slowly fucked- but Bucky really hadn’t noticed that. He had worked very hard not to notice that. He was doing this because Steve had asked, and Steve was his best pal, and Steve needed him. It was frankly criminal that he didn’t know how to kiss.  
  
“Look at my mouth. I mean, look at ‘her’ mouth,” he breathed. “Yeah, just like that, like you can’t look away.” Steve’s eyes had maybe developed lasers or something, because Bucky’s lips were tingling just from his gaze. Were Steve’s pupils dilated? His eyes just seemed so dark.  
  
“Now lean in…stop!” Bucky put his hand on Steve’s chest, kept him from immediately closing the inches between them. Apparently, Steve rushed into more than fights. “Just breath, just sit there. Then let her come to you.”  
  
Bucky was breathing heavily now. This was where he broke off and strode across the room, right? He’d done enough. The lines of friendship only went so far. So he was definitely going to get up and finish dinner and stop this nonsense. Any minute.  
  
“Bucky? Are you going to show me?” Steve couldn’t sound plaintive if he tried, he was a little shit held together with spite and willpower. But he sounded whispery. Maybe he was having an asthma attack? If only Bucky’s head weren’t spinning. Maybe they were both having asthma attacks. The fabric of Steve’s shirt was soft under his hand, and Bucky’s fingers had started moving across it without his permission.  
  
“It’s not rocket-science, Steve,” he said, and leaned in the last inch. Steve’s lips were a little chapped at the edges. Warm. He lingered for a second, then pulled away, chaste.  
  
“Never took you for a fucking quitter,” said the worst best-friend in the world. Steve’s eyes were blown, his breath was catching, and he looked ready to punch someone. Anyone who’d known him for more than five minutes knew Steve didn’t back down from a challenge. Only a few people knew Bucky didn’t either, because Bucky hid it really well. He was good at nonchalance, and casually making sure he won every competition. Too bad Steve knew him down to the bone, to the end of the line.  
  
Bucky kissed him. His fingers grabbed hold of Steve’s shirt, angling him right. He licked at Steve’s lips, pushed in on Steve’s gasp. Bucky needed to wipe the pouting look off those lips, bite it off, devour that stupid pink mouth that didn’t know when to shut up.  
  
And Steve melted. Maybe he didn’t quite know what to do with his tongue, but he was trying, stroking against Bucky. Steve’s cold fingers were grasping his back, pulling him down on the couch, pulling him further in. Steve was making small whining noises into his mouth and scrabbling at Bucky’s shirt, trying to pull it up. And Bucky’s cock was already hard, straining his slacks.  
  
That was enough to splash some cold water on the whole mess. Bucky broke away, stood up, tried to put some furniture between his stupid cock and his even stupider best friend. Bucky’s mouth felt raw, but it was nothing to the wet red mess that was Steve’s lips. And his whole face, his face was so raw and open. Bucky looked down at the kitchen chair he was clutching.  
  
“I. I’m sorry Steve. So, uh, that’s what you’ll do with, with uh, what-her-name,” Bucky stumbled. “Yeah. You’ve definitely got the idea.”  
  
“Why’d you stop?” asked the world’s stupidest person. A dunce among men. A dunce still sprawled on the couch, looking like a hurricane had descended upon him. Surely Bucky hadn’t done that to his hair? He would have remembered touching Steve’s hair, he’d thought about it enough.  
  
“Steve,” Bucky ground out, “you don’t want to be doing this with me. You found yourself a nice girl, right?” He really didn’t want to have this conversation. He didn’t want Father Michael to be right. Steve was good and shining, and even if Bucky was a fucking invert he wasn’t going to mess Steve up. “So. Good job. You know how to kiss now.”  
  
Steve’s shoulders were straitening up, squaring like they did when he was about to poke a bear. Bucky knew enough to brace himself, because whatever came next was going to hurt.  
  
“Well…” Steve said, drawing it out. Like a goddamn punk. “Not exactly.”  
  
“What exactly?” Bucky asked. He kept accidentally looking at Steve’s face, and that led to looking at Steve’s lips, and that was just a bad idea in general. He forced himself back to examining the woodgrain of the chair he was clutching.  
  
“I might have lied. There’s no Lucy, I just wanted to kiss you,” said Steve. With his stupid mouth, red with whisker burn, and his squared shoulders.  
  
That brought Bucky’s attention up. Here he’d been trying, focusing on finding them both nice girls. Focusing on not messing anything up, least of all Steve. And meanwhile, Steve had been…lying?  
  
“I want to kiss you. I don’t want to kiss some girl,” said Steve. And maybe Bucky should have explained to him why that was wrong. Bucky could have told him what everyone thought of two men doing that, and how god would punish them forever. Bucky knew it all. He told it to himself damn near every night, as he fell asleep across from Steve. So maybe he could have explained it, to this dumb punk trying the last of his patience. If it wasn’t for those shoulders. But Steve was sitting there, shining, and Bucky wasn’t going to be the one to hunch him over. He’d seen that enough. And maybe he was tired of telling himself what the world would think. He was definitely tired of looking away from Steve’s lips.  
  
Later, Bucky would convince himself he smirked, and drawled some clever line about Steve not being able to get enough. Because Bucky was good at being nonchalant, usually. He was good at pretending not to want something too much. But that night he just strode over to the couch and ran his hands through Steve’s hair. It was as soft as Bucky had always hoped. And Steve’s lips were even softer.


End file.
